


Come Morning Light

by thegayemu



Series: Brasskier's Tumblr Fics [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, Jaskier is over this shit, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Post-mountain breakup, no beta we die like Valdo Marx refuses to, no love shack, shack of loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegayemu/pseuds/thegayemu
Summary: Jaskier stumbles upon an abandoned shack coming down from the mountain and decides to live as a hermit until he has to head back to Oxenfurt for the winter.Geralt and Ciri are headed north fleeing Nilfgaard when Geralt finds an abandoned shack to take shelter in. It's not as abandoned as he'd thought.It's my obligatory shack of loneliness/no love shack fic from those Jaskier promo shots we got for Witchmas.
Series: Brasskier's Tumblr Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097822
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Come Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally compiling all my Tumblr fics and putting them up on here. This one was based (of course) on those beautifully melodramatic Jaskier promo pics we got for Witchmas.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr :)](https://brasskier.tumblr.com/)

When Jaskier stumbles upon the little shack three-quarters of the way down the mountain, he only intends to stay there just for one night. Take a load off, keep safe from any stray monsters that might be lurking about, and ensure he won't accidentally run into a certain witcher. But the shack is actually pretty cozy, and there's some furniture left inside that with a little TLC could easily be salvaged. He's close enough to Caingorn to drop by if he needed something or wanted to workshop a new ballad. So "just for the night" becomes "maybe for a week or two to get my head back on straight" and then is further extended to "I don't have anywhere to be until winter so why not fuck off and live in an abandoned shack?" 

He fixes it up nicely, nails the bed up good and tosses his bedroll over the frame so he's no longer sleeping on the ground, tinkers around with the stove until he can properly cook a meal on it, dusts and cleans until he's not sneezing incessantly from the dust any longer. Hunting becomes not only a necessity but a hobby of sorts, and even more than small game he finds himself relishing the tranquility of fishing in the river. He's still not the greatest cook on the continent, but he's managed to avoid giving himself food poisoning. He'll set back on the road for Oxenfurt closer to winter, but in the meantime this is his home. He revels in his newfound self-sufficiency and finds he has little desire or need to drop by town anymore, so he doesn't, and settles into a routine as a temporary hermit.

Geralt is sure he's dead. Every now and again a too-chatty bartender or innkeeper will ask him, "are you that bard's witcher?" He always says no, and they always keep prattling on anyway. "He was a sweet enough fellow, used to drop by 'round these parts time to time, always had that witcher with him." Geralt would grunt and nod along, struggling to be better at controlling his temper with his child surprise now sharing his company. "No one's seen 'em in a while. Reckon he's dead, the poor sod. What a shame."  _ What a shame indeed.  _ Geralt didn't dwell on it, pushed the thought of Jaskier's death (and his guilt) far out of mind.  _ It was the damned bard's own fault if he got himself killed. _

After the second or third identical interaction, Ciri (always too bright for her own good) seemed to catch on, summoned all her courage, and asked Geralt about it. "You had a bard, didn't you?" He did have a bard, she'd slowly learn. His name was Jaskier, he was a royal pain in the ass, and he was probably dead, most likely from his own stupidity. She knew better than to trust that Geralt would let someone he held only contempt for tag along with him for decades, but she was reaching his limit on interrogation. She didn't push any further; maybe when she finally got to meet Yennefer she'd know more.

A roving band of Nilfgaardian foot soldiers pressed them out of the way and further west. Geralt and Ciri were finally on the last leg of their journey up to Kaer Morhen; they just needed to head east and every so slightly north, and then they'd be safe. At least it wasn't terribly cold; the threat of capture meant they were wintering far earlier than usual, the trees still cast in orange and gold. But they were exhausted and never really out of harm's way. Which is why, when Geralt caught sight of an unoccupied little shack, he decides they're going to stop a little early, spend the night within the relative security of four walls. He tethers Roach to a nearby post, explains the plan to Ciri, and heads towards the door. 

The shed is cleaner than Geralt had expected; far cleaner, he'd almost go as far as to say immaculate. It looks lived-in, a half-finished cup of tea still simmering on the table. Clearly, he'd misestimated the vacancy of the shack. No matter, perhaps the resident might take pity and agree to house them for the evening. He turns back towards the exit - looking like a trespasser will not help his case - but he's too late, and a voice stops him while his hand hovers over the doorknob. The voice, it calls his name. Uncanny realization settles in his gut; he'd recognize that voice anywhere.

It was a pleasant evening, sunset painting his room in pink and orange through the window, and Jaskier was enjoying his evening tea when he heard movement. Eyes wide, he catches his breath in his throat to keep from crying out, and shuffles as silently as possible back to the bed to retrieve his dagger. Moments like these were where he'd silently wish Geralt was still there, and then immediately resent himself for even having the thought. He was a grown man; he could take care of himself. Blade in hand, he clapped his free hand over his mouth when he heard the door creak open, footsteps clomp through his kitchen, a little girl's voice. He dragged closer to the source, weapon drawn, legs trembling. And then he sees a shock of silver hair, the glint of steel. He'd recognize this intruder anywhere.

"Geralt?" He called, inflection somewhere between questioning and accusatory. The witcher turns slowly to face him, dirt caked against his cheek, and for a moment Jaskier feels like he might just pass out. 

"Jaskier." He grips onto the table to ground himself, thoughts spinning. And then he catches sight of her, blond curls tucked under the hood of a sooty cloak - the child surprise.

"You're…" he breathes, crossing the space between them in a few easy strides and kneeling before her. "The child surprise." He smiles fondly - looks like Geralt has finally stepped up to take responsibility. The girl cast an uncertain gaze up at Geralt. "Right. I'm Jaskier. Geralt and I, we were… well, we, uh, used to travel together."  _ We used to be friends, _ or at least he used to think they were.

"I'm Ciri," the girl replied, still obviously skittish, brow knitted with confusion and uncertainty. "Geralt said you were dead." Jaskier snorted, falling back on his heels with laughter and startling Ciri.

"Dead? Brilliant, Geralt!" He waved a hand in front of himself. "I know that's what you wanted, but - gods! - did you run around telling the whole Continent that? Or did you just feel the need to feed your child surprise this lie?"

"The whole Continent told  _ me _ you were dead," Geralt huffed, arms folded across his chest. "Everywhere I went, 'you that bard's witcher?' Everyone assumed you were dead - 'no one's seen the poor bastard around in months'. What was I supposed to think?" Jaskier straightened up, opened his mouth as if to speak, but Geralt kept going. "I don't-- I never said--" He raked a hand through his hair. "I never wished you were dead." Geralt wasn't sure what he expected - an exaggerated rebuttal, an exasperated shake of the head and a finger pointed towards the door, anything - but instead, Jaskier simply slunk back to the kitchen, slipped into the chair, and dropped his head in his hands. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, and Ciri tugged at Geralt's arm. "I'm just-- I just-- it's just a lot, you know? Gods, it's just a lot." Geralt eyed the setting sun through the window - if he wasn't going to let them stay, they needed to get a move on. Jaskier seemed to sense his antsiness. "You can stay the night. Ciri can have my bed." 

"Thank you, I…" 

"Don't." Jaskier waved him off, rising from the table again. "Just don't leave the place a mess, and I want you gone first thing in the morning." Geralt nodded, and Jaskier led Ciri to his bed. "It's not much. Sorry."

"It's plenty," she replied, settling in. "Thank you." 

"Where will you sleep?" Geralt asked, tone as nonchalant as possible. Jaskier shrugged.

"I'm not tired just yet." He gently lifted his lute up by the strap from the corner. "Think I might play for a bit, just to settle my mind." Usually, Geralt would've rolled his eyes, told him to shut up -  _ you play that damned thing all day, just go to bed  _ \- but this was  _ Jaskier's home _ , and he did little more than nod. "I'll be off for Oxenfurt in a week or two. If you find yourselves needing shelter again, it'll be unoccupied." 

"Thank you." Jaskier disappeared outside, and soon the soft strum of lute strings floated in. Geralt laid out his bedroll next to Ciri and settled down for the night, trying not to eavesdrop on lyrics he realized might be about him. Eventually, the songs slowed, and then dropped off entirely, and Geralt fought the urge to get up and carry the sleeping bard inside like he’d done on a handful more occasions than he’d care to admit. Instead, he fell into an uneasy sleep, and knew that come morning light when Jaskier awoke, they’d, as promised, be gone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Those pics crack me up every time I see them, because they're so cheesy, but fuck is Joey selling it so hard. 
> 
> Written for [my Tumblr](https://brasskier.tumblr.com/)


End file.
